


Chain of Command for the 5 Time Meme

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Humor, M/M, Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Are</i> you sure about this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chain of Command for the 5 Time Meme

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeaRyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/gifts).



> Written for the Tumblr 5 time meme and Bea's prompt of Chain of Command: Are you sure about this?
> 
> (Okay maybe I snuck some secret FML in there, but it couldn't be helped, and surely you approve!)

1.

“Miles, put that thing away!” Bass waved Miles’ cock away from Jeremy’s sleeping face as if he was shooing a fly.

“Come on! Where’s your sense of fun?” Miles whispered in the dark tent.

“What is even the point? It’s not like you can take a picture!”

“Just casual tomfoolery to honor our Marine roots?” Miles shrugged, his nutsack still held aloft right over Jeremy’s mouth as the latter snored, his breath tickling the sensitive scrotal skin.

“Are you sure about this?” Bass sighed, feeling exasperated.

“Yeah, man! This is just guys being guys. Nothing gay going on here.”

Jeremy’s tongue snuck out and licked a long stripe along Miles’ cock, causing the other man to jump as if bitten by an asp.

“ _Are_ you sure about that?” Jeremy smirked and went back to sleep.

2.

“Ow! Really? Figging?” Jeremy didn’t look impressed staring at the piece of raw ginger in Miles’ hand.

“No?” Miles hadn’t actually considered _not_ shoving it into someone’s ass. Not until he saw the look of abject horror on his friends’ faces. Clearly, they had forgotten what fun was.

“Are you sure about this?” Bass asked, draped over Jeremy’s naked body like a casually feline blanket, all cherubic blond curls and baby-blues.

“No, actually. I’m not.” Miles tossed the root away and climbed into the bed with them.

3.

“But, look, I’m pretty sure this is what people used for lube back then,” Miles insisted.

“Lard?” Bass’ grimace did not speak highly of the practice.

“I believe they called it ‘tallow’ back in the day,” Jeremy chimed in.

“What? You’re on _his_ side now?” Bass felt betrayed.

“It’s the apocalypse, Bass. Don’t be such a girl!” Miles rolled the goopy substance between his fingers. 

“Fine, but you better be 100% sure about this,” Bass sighed.

4.

The man was dead, there was no point in prodding him to check. Nevertheless, Jeremy went to get a long, pointy stick. 

“Are you sure about this?” Bass asked, his scarf over his face to block out the rancid smell of rotten flesh.

“I’m not touching him with my bare hands!” Jeremy protested, nose hidden in the woolen collar of his uniform.

“You’re both pussies,” Miles squated over the corpse and rolled him over with his bare hand.

“Gross, Miles! What if he’s got… the siph or something?” Jeremy took a step back.

“I’ll wash my hand before putting it inside you, I promise.” Miles retrieved the letter the rebel had been carrying from the folds of his bloody overcoat. “After we kill more people. Keep walking, ladies.”

5\. 

The heat of their bodies, flanking Jeremy, the hard planes and gripping fingers digging into parts of him that he did not know were erogenous zones, was filling him with pure animal lust. He wasn’t sure when it had turned comfortable. When the apprehension of coming between them turned into the joy of the chase and then into bone-deep contentment. Miles’ lips on the back of his neck, while Bass’ tongue trailed along the outlines of his collar bones, it made Jeremy throw his head back and let loose a moan so powerful he might’ve woken up the guards. (Well, serves them right for falling asleep in the first place!) Wrecked and spent in between them, he floated as if on a cloud of leather and musk, for nothing was soft and fluffy about his Generals. 

Miles rose, no doubt to get something to clean them all up, and Jeremy felt Bass’ fingers, tracing the outlines of his face, gently stroking over his lips. He opened his eyes, meeting Bass’ own, that look of lost melancholy on his face that Jeremy always wanted to erase with his mouth. Bass leaned closer.

“Are you sure about this?” Jeremy asked.

“I am,” Bass replied, and pressed their lips together.


End file.
